Mr. Wicker's Window

by Carley Dawson

  CHAPTER 29

  Chris put down his spyglass and the two boys, hidden on the pinyknoll, watched the procession out of sight.

  "I'm supposed to take something from her," Chris said with his eyessparkling, "but I know now what I'm going to give her back in return.I feel sort of sorry for that girl," he added thoughtfully.

  "What're we going to do, Chris?" Amos wanted to know. "What-all comesnext, and have we some more of those dates?"

  Chris passed him some. "We have to wait until dusk anyway," he said,his voice abstracted, "and by the look of the light that won't belong."

  The piny knoll was steep and rocky and only two adventurous boys wouldever have reached the top. Too precipitous on which to build houses,it rose far above the surrounding roofs of Peking. The green andscarlet of curved tiles spread under the boys' sight like a curlingsea. Before them, stretched out in long angular wings to right andleft, swept the palace walls.

  Listening and watching, the boys gathered by the silver trumpet notesthat the Princess and her retinue had re-entered the palace walls byanother gate.

  Thinking about it Chris mused: I wonder if that first palanquin heldsomeone she's to marry? It could be. And if so, this may be her lastappearance to the people of the city before leaving for a new domain.She would probably take the Jewel Tree with her. I can't imagine awoman leaving a thing like that behind. He paused, remembering. Sheheld a spray of jeweled flowers in her hand, maybe off the Tree, and Inever saw anything like it. Well, can't do a thing until dusk comesdown.

  The evening was not long in coming, and Chris, who had been sittingcross-legged under the little crooked pines, looked across with greatconcern to where Amos lay on his back, dozing.

  I can't take him along, Chris thought, and I can't leave him alone, ifI should get caught. What in the world do I do?

  Then, remembering the bag of magic "odds and ends," Chris put his handinside it and drew out a small folded piece of silk and netting. On ita piece of paper, like a label, showed Mr. Wicker's fine script. Chrislooked closer and read: "Strike 3."

  "Strike 3."

  Chris held the folded object in his hand, and then glanced at Amos.Amos slept. Going softly out of the pine grove to a narrow ledge ofrock where he was out of sight, Chris put the object down and said:"Strike three."

  Nothing happened. The object remained an object. Then, suddenlyunderstanding, Chris struck the stone ledge three times.

  At once the folded object began to unfold itself and to puff itselfup like a little mushroom. In a matter of seconds, Chris could seewhat it was becoming, and before he could wink ten times, a balloonwith a basket hanging from it, quite big enough for two boys, hungswaying in the air. Chris examined it with pleasure and then struckthe ground three times again. The balloon gently collapsed andrefolded itself, basket and all, into its original neat shape.

  "Now, if that isn't handy!" Chris exclaimed. Then, looking at thelight fading from the sky, he picked up the folded balloon and went towaken Amos.

  "Amos!" he said, shaking his friend's shoulder, "it's time for me togo. Are you awake?"

  Amos blinked a few times and said he thought so.

  "Then listen to me," Chris told him earnestly, "and listen hard!" Amossat up more alertly.

  "I have a handy thing here which is for you to use only--do you hear?_only_ if I don't come back."

  Amos's eyes began to get brighter and he swallowed.

  "Don't come _back_? Law! Chris, don't you leave me in this heathencountry where nobody understands good English!" he cried. "Why, unlessI'd steal, and Miss Becky told me _never_ to do that--but unless Idid, how could I eat in these foreign parts?"

  Chris sat back on his haunches. "Well, I don't know how you could,myself. But don't you cross any bridges until you come to them. Look."He held out the folded balloon. "If I'm not back by two sunups fromnow--I may have to hide all during tomorrow--if I'm not back by then,put this package out beyond the trees in the clearing. That's veryimportant. You've got that?"

  "I haven't got anything but a few old dried-up fruits," Amos pouted."That's all."

  "_No_, Amos!" Chris gave him another rousing shake. "I mean, do youunderstand that much?"

  Amos brightened at once and broke into a broad grin.

  "Oh yes, of course. Why didn't you say so in the first place? Yousaid, put the package out in the clear. Where's that, on thistippy-top of a hill?" Amos asked, looking about.

  "The ledge near where we climbed up. That's big enough," Chrisreminded him.

  "Oh yes," Amos said, looking wise.

  "Well," Chris took up again, "you put the package on the ledge andstrike the ground three times--"

  "Like this?" And before Chris could stop him, Amos had struck theearth beside him twice before Chris seized his hand in mid-air.

  "_Amos!_ Not now! I said _only_ if you have to get away. If someonecomes after you, or if I don't come back. Promise me not to strikethree _at all_ except for either of those two reasons."

  Amos raised his right hand looking very solemn. "I promise," he said."Only," he added, looking bewildered and already somewhat forlorn,"what happens when I do hit three times?"

  "Why, it's a mag--it's a special kind of balloon," Chris began, aftercorrecting what had almost been a bad slip.

  "A what?" Amos stuck his head forward, trying hard to understand.

  "A _balloon_. Oh."

  Chris stopped and stared at Amos. Perhaps balloons had not yet beeninvented. How very confusing!

  "It's something that will hold you up in the air. There's a basket foryou to sit in--"

  "No _sir_!" Amos cried, wagging his head decisively from side to side."Me in the air over the roofs and high up? No _indeedy_, Chris! Notme."

  Chris was becoming exasperated. He had important things to do.

  "Look, Amos. If you have to use it, you'll be in such a bad fix thatbeing up in the air will seem like the very best thing that couldhappen. Stop running. I'll be back--I hope."

  He turned away toward the ledge and clearing.

  "And now, wish me luck, and stay here and wait for me. Don't follow menow, or watch, or I might fail."

  Amos jumped up from the pine-covered ground. "Oh, Chris!" he cried,his voice sharp with distress, "can't I go? You might get hurt.There's no telling what could happen if you're all alone!"

  Chris was tempted to take his friend with him but someone must get thenews back to the _Mirabelle_ if he should fail. If this happened, hedid not doubt but that the magic balloon would carry Amos safely tothe ship.

  "No," he said after a long moment. "Better not. But I'd sure like to,Amos. Now don't lose that package. It's your escape. Wish me luck."

  Amos clasped his hand, and then, rushing off, dashed back again.

  "Here, Chris. Our fruits. Better not to eat strange food in thisforeigny place. Good luck," he added.

  Chris stuffed the dried fruit in his pocket. Amos turned back into thedarkening pine knoll, and Chris pushed his way out to the narrow steepledge, hanging high above the roofs of Peking.

  Chris uncoiled the magic rope from around his waist, and standing asfar out on the rock ledge as he dared, in order to have the greatestpossible freedom of movement, he attempted for the first time to drawan eagle in the air with the rope. It was a complicated, fastmaneuver. The rope twisted and whipped in the air, and the result wasa molted-looking, droop-tailed buzzard. Its wings were not wideenough, its back very insecure to look at. In short, Chris knew, itwas a total failure.

  He tried again, racing against the oncoming darkness, and this time hesucceeded, although, when he pulled it close and straddled the body ofthe magic bird, his heart was in his throat that it might unfurlitself, become just a rope, and hurl him to his death far below.

  But this second eagle seemed secure enough. Chris pressed his hands onthe wings spread out on either side, with a jolt they flapped, and theboy's strange conveyance moved somewhat unsteadily through the air.

  Chris, frightened but resolute, found that by touching
the head of thebird in the direction he wanted to go, the magic eagle would turn, andafter a few moments to test out his new method of travel, Chriscoasted over the gaily tiled roofs as he hunted for something.

  Peking at that time had many palaces. Wealthy Chinese and people oftitle and family owned beautiful houses set in terraced gardenssurrounded by parks and ancient trees. Somewhere, Chris had heard ofthis and remembered it, and now in the dusk that was nearly night,the eagle carried him silently over the city as he looked for what hewanted to find.

  At last the very fragrance, rising up toward him on the night air,guided him to a large palace set in gardens. Pools of water reflectedthe first stars among their lilypads. The shaded walks and lawns weredeserted at that hour.

  Swooping down and flying back and forth to make sure he would not beseen, Chris grounded the eagle, and holding fast to one wing tip incase he should have to take off in a hurry, he walked up and down,examining and searching.